The Fifth Day

by Gordon Bonnet

  “Questions lead to answers,” she said, and for the first time her voice sounded a little perturbed. “And answers aren’t always what they appear to be. Nor what you might want. What if you got answers, but they weren’t the ones you hoped for?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know. Like I said... what more could a guy want, you know? A beautiful woman bringing me food and jumping me every time I get the urge. But…”

  “But what?” she said, and her voice had a hard edge.

  “There’s something wrong, here.” He stood up suddenly. “You’ve talked about others, but the only one I’ve seen is you. You say that I am free to stay here forever, but I get the feeling that the last thing I really am is free. After you healed me, I wanted you, and I wanted what this place was. I was taken in at first. But now I want answers. I want the truth, even if it’s harsh. Even if I’m dreaming, or have gone insane, and this is somehow all a delusion.”

  Diana stepped near him, and she gave him an alluring smile. He looked at her, stared deep into her dark eyes.

  I didn’t notice before, but her smile doesn’t ever reach her eyes.

  She put one hand on his shoulder, and let it run down his bare back. “The truth isn’t important,” she said in a soft voice. “Your mind is only going to mislead you. Follow what your body wants, instead.” Her gaze moved downward, and she chuckled. “See? Your body knows what it wants. Better than your mind does.”

  He pushed her away, and at the same time pushed away his own physical need.

  She’s taking from me, just like the Caretakers did, only a different way.

  “No,” he said. “I want answers. I see what the attraction is for me. What man wouldn’t? But what are you getting out of this?”

  Her lips pulled back in a sudden, and unexpected, snarl. “Think carefully, Duncan Kyle. Put your feet on this path, and you won’t be able to turn back. I could protect you, if you stop now.”

  “From what? What do I need protection from?”

  The snarl turned into a triumphant grin. “From us,” she said. “This world isn’t a delusion. But when you find out what it really is, you’ll wish it was.”

  Despite the warmth of the evening around him, a chill twanged its way up his backbone.

  “What? What is it?”

  She didn’t answer for a moment. Her eyes were on his, evaluating, considering. Finally, she said, “Putting it in terms you’ll understand, it’s a hunting preserve.”

  “Hunting for what?”

  Her gaze was cold, pitiless. “Whoever finds their way in.”

  “So others...” He tried to ignore the sick feeling in his belly, the way he had ignored his lust earlier. Desire was now light-years away, nothing but ashes left of the pleasure he’d had of her.

  “Have found their way here? Certainly. Not from Malkuth, at least not recently. There are other paths in.”

  “So you knew...”

  “... about Malkuth? In other words, did I lie? Of course I did. I know all of the worlds, and the paths between them. I told you what you needed to know, and what you wanted to hear.”

  “But if you are a hunter, why did you keep me?” His eyes widened a little. “No. I see. You kept me as a pet. For a time, right? Eventually, you’d have tired of me, too, so even your talk about my turning you against me by asking questions was a lie. Sooner or later, you’d have gotten bored with me, and then, what? You’d have killed me outright?”

  “No, we never do that. Hardly sporting. You always have a chance to escape.” She let one finger trail down his chest, and her mouth turned downward in a mockery of sympathy. “Of course, none ever has. The outcome is never really in question. We always win.”

  “We?”

  “I told you. My siblings live near here, and our parents. And there are others, farther off. You and I are far from alone. On the day you fell here, while you slept, I went to them and told them to keep their distance. That I had found a pet, as you put it. That I wanted some privacy to play.”

  “So your family is all like you? Using people and then killing them?”

  “You put it so brutally.” She sighed. “But surely you’ve heard about us. Some hints about us have gotten through, even to your world. They get most of the details wrong, but the essence is there. You’ve heard of Actaeon, yes?”

  He shook his head.

  “I never found out how he got here. It was from your world, I’m certain, so he must have stumbled on a portal, poor thing. He came upon me while I was swimming. He watched me for a while. I knew he was there. I’m hard to sneak up on, you know? A hunter becomes sensitive after a time. So I let him watch. And then, I could see that he was pleasuring himself. Who can blame him? It’s natural enough, I guess. But at the time, it angered me.”

  “Because you weren’t in control.”

  Her eyes narrowed a little. “Yes. You understand me well.”

  “What did you do?”

  “They say I turned him into a stag, but that part is a lie. I was kind enough to let him finish. Then I went to him. I picked up my bow on the way, and notched an arrow to the string. I didn’t bother to dress. He was frozen to the spot, frozen with mortification because of being caught that way. I looked down at him, his garments still askew, his hand around his pathetic little manhood, and I laughed. At that point he still thought I’d spare him, I think. But I leaned in close to him, and I whispered, ‘I think you’d better run.’”

  “What happened?”

  “He ran. For a short while, at least.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  Her white smile flashed out at him. “Not everyone thinks so. I’ve been deified in your world, did you know? The goddess Diana.”

  Realization struck him with a jolt like an electric shock. “Diana? Like the Roman goddess?”

  She gave a little gesture with one long-fingered hand. “So it would seem.”

  “But I thought...” He swallowed. “I thought the goddess Diana was some kind of, you know... fixated on being a virgin.”

  “A virgin?” She shrugged. “I am what I choose to be. I am a virgin in the sense that I never give myself to anyone. I only take what I want, for my own satisfaction. But perhaps virgin is the wrong word, after all. I prefer to think of it as selective.” She gave him an appreciative look up and down, and he suddenly wished, for the first time since his arrival, that he was clothed. “Once you were well enough, I was going to let you run, too, as I had with Actaeon. But as you recovered, I realized that your body pleased me, and that I wanted you. So I took you. I didn’t hear you complaining. And at least you had a nice last fling, right? If you had to choose a way to spend your last weeks alive... think of it. Making love twice a day, hunting next to a beautiful woman in the sunshine, good wine to drink, sleeping under the stars. It’s what you’d have chosen, right?”

  “Not knowing what you actually are.”

  “You really believe that? You credit yourself with far more forbearance than I think you are actually capable of.”

  “And you credit yourself with far more allure than you actually have.”

  He expected her to become angry, but she laughed. “Come, now. I’ve been honest with you. I admitted to you that I wanted you, you should admit the same about me. And you should be honored. I haven’t kept a pet in some time. Most of them end up like Actaeon. An arrow”—she reached out one finger and pressed it to his chest, right above his left nipple—”here. And that is the end. A quicker death, and less painful, than many you could hope for. But still, I can’t expect you’ll see it that way.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  She shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter, though. If it means anything to you, in what will be your last few minutes, I did enjoy you. You gave me a great deal of pleasure.” She put one cool hand on his cheek, and kissed him on the mouth. “And now,” she said quietly, “run, little rabbit. Run for your life.”

  He stared at her, but didn’t move.
/>
  “I’m serious,” she warned. “You’d better run. After enjoying your body so, I would hate to end it without any sport. But if you don’t run, I will be forced to shoot you where you stand.”

  “Why?” His voice was hoarse. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I told you. The only reason to do anything. Because I desire it.” She walked slowly toward a gnarled olive tree, beneath which sat her satchel, bow, and quiver. “I soon will tire of encouraging you to run,” she said, her back to him. “I expected you to show more spirit than to give up before you’ve even started. It is, of course, your choice.”

  And he turned and ran.

  He darted between huge old olive trees, then down a hill, and along a path he and Diana had used while hunting. He leapt across a little tumbling creek in one bound, leg muscles taut as steel bands. The path wound away uphill, but he turned aside into an open woodland, zigzagging his way amongst tree trunks and past craggy outcrops of gray rock, crusted with lichen and moss. She’ll track me with no difficulty. Desperation surged through him, tingling with adrenaline. She’s a huntress. She knows her prey. And she’s done this many, many times before, and no one has ever escaped.

  He expected at any moment to feel the jolt of an arrow between his shoulder blades. What would it feel like, to be pierced to the heart? It would be a different death than the one he had expected at the hands of the Caretakers. Better, though, than being drained of his heat and left to mummify in the dead world of Malkuth. Here, at least, he was given one last chase, and even if it would end with his bleeding his life away into the grass, there was something exhilarating about it. Malkuth had been desiccated and barren. Yesod was brutal, fierce, and pitiless, but vitally, desperately alive.

  The path he took climbed slowly, steadily uphill, and his strength flagged. His breath came in ragged gasps, and sweat ran down his chest. He slowed, ducking behind a trio of broad trunks that looked like good cover, and leaned over, hands on his knees, coughed, and spat into the bushes. Maybe I’ve lost her.

  At that moment, an arrow whickered overhead, embedding itself inches deep into a nearby tree.

  Sprinting again. Heart thudding against his ribcage. The staccato beat of bare feet striking the ground. Another arrow whirred by, the wind of its passage brushing his cheek. She’s playing with me. I’ve seen her fell a deer from fifty yards away. If she wanted to, she could put a shaft right through me. She wants the sport, the thrill of the chase. And just as she said—when she tires of it, she’ll end me.

  He struck another broad path, one he’d never seen before on his hunting treks. It was well-maintained, but open. The lack of cover was one problem, but the other was that he recalled that Diana had referred to “us.” This path wasn’t kept clear by one person, nor was it for one person’s use. There were others like her, hunters the same as her. Would they kill him on sight? Or know that he was her prey, and hers alone, and leave him to her to finish off?

  He crossed the path, and dipped into the deeper woods on the other side. He still saw no one. Not even Diana, of whom he had not caught a glimpse since his run began. But there was a merry peal of laughter from somewhere very close.

  She’s found me. I’m about to die.

  Then, a different voice in his mind cut through the fear.

  I thought I was going to die when the Caretakers caught me, but I survived. I’m not done yet. I’m not done till there’s an arrow through my heart. If she finishes me, I’m going to make her work for it. He button-hooked to the left, through a stand of dark-trunked trees with heavy, glossy leaves, and started a short, steep climb, leaping from rock to rock.

  The pursuit, certainly right on his heels, made no sound.

  Suddenly he came out into bright sunshine, and in front of him was a cleared space with a small, open-sided temple. It was not a sprawling monstrosity like the one on Malkuth, but a neat, columned building of light-colored marble. Behind the row of columns was an altar, on which lay a wooden staff, a knife, and a basin.

  For sacrifices. If I’m not killed outright, that’s what she’ll do. Sacrifice me. To whom? To herself?

  The idea struck him as preposterous, and he laughed, but he grabbed the knife as he ran across the flagstone court, intending to circle behind the temple and then downhill and away. The temple itself filled him with a chill foreboding. It had an air not of desolation and emptiness, like the huge complex in Malkuth, but active evil. If he tarried there, he would die.

  He almost made it.

  He was about to leap from the edge of the wall down into the grassy verge, a drop of only a few feet, when an arrow grazed his naked thigh. It cut a deep gash across his skin, and then skittered on the stones and into a shadowed corner of the temple.

  He gave a cry of pain, and grabbed his leg. He looked down. Scarlet oozed from between his fingers. He turned to see Diana walking slowly up the hill, an arrow notched to her bowstring. She wore a broad smile.

  “Well run,” she said. “Not many have lasted this long against me.” She looked down at the ceremonial knife in his right hand. “You’ve hunted with me enough to know that an arrow is far swifter than a knife.”

  He backed up, passing between two of the stone columns and into the cool shade of the temple. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Have to?” She laughed. “I have never had to do anything.”

  “Why would you kill me if I gave you nothing but pleasure?”

  “Because killing you also gives me pleasure. Because the chase is pleasure. Because seeing you standing there, naked, trembling, knowing you are moments from death, gives me pleasure.” She pulled the bowstring taut, the point of the arrow aimed at his breastbone. “But if you wish to plead for your life, I will listen. That will also be pleasant to me.”

  His halting retreat ended when his back touched the cool brush of woven fabric. He reached behind him with one hand, and his hand brushed some sort of cloth, perhaps a tapestry or a curtain. There seemed to be a space behind it, but he dared not turn to look.

  “Pleading wouldn’t change the outcome,” he said. “So why embarrass myself by doing it?”

  “Well said,” she said, whether sincerely or in jest was impossible to tell. “You show courage. I will make your end quick. Such a gift a goddess can bestow.” She pulled the bow taut. “But wait,” she said, as if it were an afterthought, but he knew everything she did was planned, considered, deliberate. She released a little of the tension on the string. “Perhaps I will spare your life, if you will tell me one thing.”

  “What is that?”

  “How do you get from one world to another?”

  “I thought you already knew that. You said other people have come here, and you have hunted them. And you know about the worlds and the paths from one to another.”

  “Oh, yes. We do. We know what the worlds are. But we do not know how to create the portals between them. I think you do.”

  “I don’t.”

  “So a portal appeared, from nothing, as you needed it, when you were on the verge of death? I find that difficult to believe. The others who came here, they have always looked lost, as if they stumbled in by accident. Your arrival was… convenient. For you, at least.”

  “I was almost frozen to death, and then I nearly drowned. I would have died if you hadn’t rescued me.”

  “Almost and nearly,” she said. “And yet here you stand. I think you do know how to travel from one world to the next. Tell me that, and I will let you live. I may even let you accompany me as my brothers and sisters and I go hunting in new lands.” Her beautiful brows drew together in a mockery of sympathy. “Of course, you may not really know, or you may choose not to tell me. Either way, it would be unfortunate for you.”

  He wasn’t sure why he reacted as he did. His rush toward her was so sudden, and so unexpected, that she hesitated for a moment, then flinched as she released the arrow, and it flew wild.

  He heard the twang of the string, and a metallic ping as the arrowhead struc
k stone somewhere above and behind her. He leaped forward and swung the knife at her, but fear and inexperience defeated his first attack. The knife blade merely grazed her shoulder, slitting open the sleeve of her tunic.

  She gave a howl of anger, cut off as his momentum drove him into her, his shoulder hitting her hard and low. His greater weight bowled her over, and knocked the breath from her lungs in a great whoosh as they tumbled together to the floor. She recovered her composure instantly. She had undoubtedly tracked many prey in her long, long life, and this was surely not the first one that decided to fight back. She tore at his bare chest, growling like an animal.

  They clutched, striving against each other in a death battle as they had striven against each other in love only a day before. She grabbed his wrist, and with surprising strength slammed it against the stone floor.

  He gave a cry of pain and let go of the knife, and it clattered out of reach.

  Now they were bare hands to bare hands. She had dropped her bow as well, not that it would have been useful in such combat. And to his surprise, he found that they were equally matched. He had never been a fighter. A few tussles in middle school were all he had to his credit. He had thought that this tireless huntress would be more than a match for him, that his death was only a matter of time.

  Can I kill her? He was amazed the thought even came to mind. I have to try. It’s her or me. He reached for her throat, but her free hand came up and raked nails across his cheek, drawing blood. A lithe, powerful leg twisted beneath him, her knee planted solidly in his abdomen. He was flung away from her, and slid toward the curtained wall, one shoulder scraping painfully on the flagstones.

  He rolled to the side, trying to come to his feet, but she was on top of him before he could regain his balance. Now both knees were against him, and she shoved him backwards. Head and shoulders landed against the curtain, and the fabric tore and cascaded around them.

  There was a moment, almost comical, as they struggled to free themselves from the heavy weight of the cloth. He grabbed at the curtain, pulled it down around her head, trying to entangle her further to buy himself time. She gave a snarl of anger, but he was able to free himself, get at least to his knees.